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daycourtofficial · 2 months

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Wingspan Matters

Summary: based on this request, you, Nesta, and Feyre catch your mates in a pissing contest over their wingspans

Author’s note: silly little crack hehe

Word count: ~1k

You poured yourself another cup of tea as Feyre and Nesta began squabbling over something you really couldn’t bring yourself to care about. You looked out the window, taking in the nice spring weather. A light breeze was flowing through the trees, causing the branches to move in a dance to the wind’s patterns.

You watch as the birds flit by, their song a lament to the end of winter, as if they too were sending their thanks to the Mother for spring to return. It’s the first warm day in months, the first day that your forearms won’t get cold being exposed to the air.

The life around you seems to dance and sing at the joyous return of spring - insects buzz past the windows, their high pitched frequencies a delight to your ears. You don’t let yourself think for too long about how the resurrection of spring will cause Cassian to snore even louder than before.

Perhaps you and Azriel can plan an escape to the Summer Court for a few weeks. Hopefully the distance and the crashing of waves will be enough to block out Cassian’s loud snoring.

You get lost in a daydream of laying on the beach with Azriel, either in the sand or in hammocks, applying a protective balm to his wings. The sun is warm on your skin, the salty spray of the ocean in your hair.

Muffled shouting disturbs both your daydream and whatever quarrel Nesta and Feyre were in the middle of. The three of you open the doors to the balcony, leaning over the railing to find your mates in a circle in a clearing on the property, their tan skin and large, dark wings making them stand out amidst the greenery that surrounds them.

Azriel was standing to the side, looking incredibly smug with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches his two brothers. Cassian has a piece of ribbon that he was holding up to Rhysand’s back. The two kept bickering, over what you couldn’t discern.

Before any of you could question what the two were discussing, Rhysand took the ribbon from Cassian and pushed him off. Cassian landed on the ground, but immediately sprung back up, his hands coming up and shoving Rhysand off the rock he was perched on.

“Looks like the bats are finally measuring themselves,” Nesta muses, bringing her cup to her lips.

You could hear Rhys’s laugh from the balcony as he sprung up, keeping low to the ground as he charged at Cassian, his shoulder hitting Cassian’s hips. He pushed Cassian into the ground, causing Cassian to push his weight upwards so the two of them begin rolling around on the ground, punches and curses being shared to and fro.

Feyre chuckles, “it seems Azriel’s already won.”

Nesta peers back to you over her cup, “I don’t think it’s just Azriel that’s won.”

“Don’t draw yourself up too short, Nes. I think Cassian’s in second place.”

Nesta looks back at you, eyes roaming up and down your frame, “I’m more surprised he hasn’t broken you in half yet.”

Feyre laughs as you reply, “you’d be more surprised if you saw some of the things we do.”

You waggle your eyebrows at Nesta as Feyre continues laughing, but Nesta’s not quick enough to hide her smirk without your notice.

“How long do we wait until we have them measure Feyre’s wings?” you ask.

Feyre thinks for a moment, hand on her chin, “maybe when Azriel gets a little too cocky.”

“Or Rhysand gets too pouty,” Nesta adds.

From across the courtyard, you could see Azriel’s amused smirk as his eyes met yours, a light tug on the bond urging you to keep your gaze on him. You smile, pulling back softly. He raises his eyebrows up and down a few times, and you send some amusement down the bond as you roll your eyes at him.

He stretches his wings out at your attention, making them as large as he can. You’re pretty certain you’ve seen birds do similar things in mating rituals, but the unfortunate thing is seems to actually be working on you.

He looks over to his brothers, still rolling around in the dirt, and gently takes off for a short flight up to the balcony the three of you are on. He lands softly in front of you, his wings creating a small wind, his chest glowing in the sunlight as his hands reach for you, pulling you into him by your hips.

You melt into him, arms going around his waist, your head resting over his heart as he supports your weight with the railing behind him. The warmth from his skin is soothing without being overbearingly hot.

“They make me want to gag,” Nesta tells Feyre, and you move your head so you can see the two pairs of eyes looking back to the two of you. Azriel wraps his wings around you, making you nearly impossible to see if it weren’t for your feet. You can hear the smile on Nesta’s face at her words, though.

You weasel an opening between Azriel’s arms so you can make eye contact with Nesta as you tell her, “he makes me gag too,” as you make an obscene gesture with your hand.

Nesta’s face immediately goes into her hands while Feyre chuckles, but her laughs are drowned out by the male in front of you, his laugh rumbling in his chest beneath your ear.

He peers down at you, one eyebrow raised in question. You nod slightly, and the two of you vanish into his shadows, leaving Feyre and Nesta to watch their mates continue to fight in the dirt, forgetting who really won the competition.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #acotar writing

2K notes · View notes

sarahscribbles · 11 months

Note

What if you did a summer fic where it started out really fluffy where Loki and reader go to the pool or lake, but then the reader pushes Loki in and it’s just like playful fight and then they have pool or lake sex 💀

I meant this to be super smutty but these fools had their own idea and it's smuffy instead! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! This probably has the most anti-climatic ending every and I'm sorry! 😅

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟓𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

There are many things you dislike about Tony Stark.

You dislike his arrogance that’s barely mellowed a fraction with age. You dislike how he refuses to back down in an argument, even when it’s painfully clear to everyone else that he’s wrong. You dislike the way he makes his hot chocolate with water and has the nerve to call it “the real thing.”

But one thing you adore about him is his generosity.

It’s because of Tony that you can feel a warm afternoon breeze gently caressing your bare skin. It’s, thankfully, not unbearably hot. Instead, it provides just the perfect amount of relief against the mid morning sun that’s making the Pacific Ocean glitter invitingly before you. The breeze brings with it the fragrant scent of the manicured garden just down below, and you can’t help but close your eyes to breathe it in. There are traces of orange and vanilla perfuming the air, along with something spicy that you’ve failed to discern after two days.

It’s a strange combination of scents, yet somehow it works. It reminds you that you’re a million miles away from New York and everything that comes with it.

You aren’t going to be called to any ridiculously early training sessions with Rogers, or asked to help break up whatever pissing contest Thor and Tony have going on. For two weeks - two glorious weeks - you’re just a normal person celebrating her anniversary with the love of her life.

Only you’re doing so on a private island in Mexico that you flew to on Tony Stark’s private jet.

This was his gift to you and Loki - two uninterrupted weeks together to just be a normal couple. You’re still not sure how you can ever thank him, not that he’ll expect you to.

It’s one of the best things about him, though you’ll never say it to his face. His ego, after all, is big enough.

“This place suits you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so relaxed.” Your lover’s voice, sweet as honey, drifts across the room. Even after three years together, it still makes tiny butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You turn to see Loki strolling easily through the wide open space of Tony’s beach house. He looks as regal and elegant as ever, even wearing a slouchy pair of grey sweatpants that sit low on his hips. You appreciate that he’s forgone a shirt, choosing instead to flaunt his chiseled chest and the faint red scratch marks still adorning it.

The patchwork of lovebites on his neck, though, isn’t so subtle. Not that you mind - you want everyone and their mother to know that this man is yours.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relaxed,” you reply, basking in the feel of his strong arms looping around your waist. You breathe in the scent of him, letting it wrap itself around you like a safety blanket.

It’s Loki. It’s home.

He pulls you back tighter against his bare chest, continuing to loop his arms around you in such a way that you know nothing in the world could ever hurt you, and you soon feel the gentle press of his lips in your hair. It’s these small moments - like being wrapped in his arms while the ocean twinkles happily before you - that you wish you could live in. He’s the love of your life, your best friend, and no amount of time spent with him is ever enough.

“Mmm, if your snoring is anything to go by, then I believe you,” he teases with a playful nip to the tip of your ear. “For a moment I feared my brother had followed us here.”

You grin and bump your hips back against his. “Are you trying to get pushed in the pool? Because it sounds like you’re trying to get pushed in the pool.”

His quick laughter rolls over you, rich and deep as velvet, and the sound of it still makes something warm and golden blossom in your stomach. “Your threats are truly adorable, darling,” he replies, resting his chin atop your head.

It’s only for a second because you’re quickly wrigging in his arms until you’re both face to face. Only now, you get to admire up close the love bites you covered him in the night before, and how his pale skin makes them deliciously prominent. He looks so beautiful, so damned sinful, that you’re filled with a new determination that he’ll be wearing your marks for the entire two weeks.

“What? You don’t think I could push you in that pool?” You feign offense, but the twinkle of mischief in his eyes tells you he knows you’re only starting the age old game between you both.

“Darling, do tell me,” he begins smoothly, bending easily to lock his hands behind your knees and toss you over his shoulder like you weigh less than air. “How exactly do you plan on accomplishing that from here?” He gives your ass a light slap as if to emphasise his point.

He lets his hand rest there as he carries you through the house, all the while your half hearted cries of protest melt quickly to bubbles of laughter. “You never play fair! Asshole!” you pretend to huff as he effortlessly sends the bamboo doors swinging open without so much as a touch.

It’s hotter than you anticipated outside - much hotter - and you’re quickly grateful for the coolness of Loki’s skin seeping through the thin material of your robe like a soothing balm. It’s a gratefulness that doesn’t last long - little more than a space of a heartbeat - when Loki decides to roughly pinch your ass, hard enough that your cunt clenches and you know that a bruise will be blooming beautifully there come tomorrow.

“Oh, darling, has it really taken you all this time to notice?” he teases, turning down the shaded path that winds lazily down to the pool.

Unseen by him, you roll your eyes.

With each step Loki takes, the air grows thicker with the sweet scent of vanilla and the heavy scent of the Mexican heat. The trees towering above are alive with the cheerful melodies of a choir of songbirds and, in the distance, you can hear the rush of water from the impressive waterfall that spills neverendingly into the pool. It’s so blissfully peaceful that you could easily fall asleep on Loki’s shoulder, but as the crashing of the waterfall grows closer and you realise he’s heading towards the pool, you quickly stop chattering and stiffen on his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare,” you warn him slowly, trying your best to prop yourself up on his strong back. His skin is so wonderfully cool against yours, though, that you can’t stop the quiet moan of contentment.

A large hand runs along the back of your thigh, sending a trail of goosebumps erupting along your body as how deceptively harmless it feels. “Hmm? Whatever do you mean, darling?” he replies innocently. “I only thought we could admire Stark’s pool together.”

That damn pool.

You try vainly to twist in his grip, to try and calculate just how many seconds you have before he’s tossing you into the water, but, no matter how you turn, all you can see is the sandstone tiles of the floor.

“We’ve admired this pool every night since we got here! It’s probably more familiar with your ass than I am!” you shoot back, just as Loki comes to a stop right by the edge of the pool.

He doesn’t reply, but makes a show of turning left and right, as though he’s deliberating where best to throw you in to keep himself safe from your inevitable retaliation when you resurface. You feel him adjust his arms around you, letting one snake across your bare legs as though he’s preparing to toss you in, and fresh protests spill easily from your lips in a last desperate plea.

“Loki! I mean it! Don’t you dare….!” Your voice has risen several octaves and you’re wriggling in his grip, something you know is completely pointless. If Loki wants to throw you in the pool, then you’re going to be thrown in the pool.

You feel yourself moving through the air and your arms are already flailing, bracing for contact with the clearer than crystal water. You’re even sucking in a breath and closing your eyes in preparation…

But your feet come into quick contact with the solid ground beneath you.

When your eyes snap open, Loki is grinning wickedly at you and those pretty green eyes are dancing with mischief. You swear you fall in love with him a little bit more.

“Did you really think I’d do that to you, darling?” he purrs smoothly, looping strong arms back around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

Thankful as you are for the soothing coolness seeping off him, you answer with a soft thwack that you know barely tickles him. “Yes! Throwing someone in a pool - throwing me in a pool - is your equivalent of setting a child loose in a bouncy castle!” You try to sound stern, but he can no doubt see the grin that’s threatening to break across your face.

He’s a mischievous scamp, he’s what your grandmother would fondly call a rascal, but he can make you smile as easily as breathing. It’s one of the many, many reasons why you love him with every last fibre of your being, with your entire soul. He’s your God of Mischief and you wouldn’t have him any other way.

Loki lets his face fall, but love still shines in his eyes like a new star in the night sky. “I am wounded, darling, that you think so little of me. Perhaps I wasn’t generous enough last night?” He slides his hands down to squeeze your ass, and a new look settles across his handsome face.

Lust.

Something hot and molten lurches to life in your stomach and your core burns almost instantly at the memory of him between your thighs. His warm tongue licking and lapping for hours until you felt all but boneless against the mattress and his quiet moans as though bringing you to climax was the sole source of his pleasure.

You breathe in deeply and your fingers curl into the bare skin of Loki’s shoulder. It’s something he doesn’t miss - of course he doesn’t miss - and he squeezes your ass again, this time notably rougher.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought,” he purrs, so low and deep that you can feel it rumbling through his chest. “If those glorious little noises you made all night were an indication, you did seem quite fond of my mouth, darling.”

That sinfully talented mouth of his. Not only could it weave words so sweet that your heart filled with warmth, but it could make you see entire galaxies explode behind your eyes.

One cool hand rises to cup your cheek and you lean easily into it. Loki’s eyes are sparkling in front of you, and you know you’re looking at a man so hopelessly in love that he would burn the world to cinders if you asked. He looks so soft, so happy, and it’s only you that will ever see him this way.

It’s intoxicating.

His eyes flick to your lips and you part them almost on instinct. His hand at your waist pulls you tighter against him until you can feel his racing heartbeat thumping against yours. You wait until his lips are barely a milimetre from yours, until you can feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks.

You wait until he leasts expect it to shove him with all your strength into the pool.

It’s the unexpectedness that makes it a success, and he falls into the water all flailing limbs and colourful curses. It’s the most undignified you’ve ever seen him and a shout of laughter rises out of you like a butterfly on the wind, even though you’ve likely signed your own death warrant.

Your heart is racing in your chest when he surfaces and you see the dangerous glint now glittering in his eyes, the one that tells you he’ll show no mercy once he gets his hands on you. Still, you can’t wipe the prideful smile from your face - it’s been months since you’ve managed to trick him.

He glides effortlessly - elegantly, even - through the water, even with the weight of his soaking sweatpants. “That was a very foolish thing to do, dove,” he warns, the deep, playful timbre of his voice making your cunt clench in anticipation of what he’s planning.

You expect him to climb out of the pool and throw you back over his shoulder. Maybe he’ll take you straight to the cabana and lay you across his knee. Or, maybe he’ll edge you senseless for a few hours before making you cum again and again and again, until you’re barely able to string two words together…

What you didn’t expect, though, was for Loki to reach and grab you easily around the knees until you’re folded over his shoulder.

“No, Loki, don’t -!” You manage to screech out between rolls of laughter before he drops you in the water without ceremony.

It washes over you, cool and refreshing against the Mexican heat, and you find you almost want to stay submerged between the twinkling surface. When you do resurface, your robe is sticking tight to your body and Loki is wearing a grin so boyish and infectious that you can’t help but return it.

You launch yourself at him across the water, aiming to knock him backwards as further retaliation, but he barely stumbles and catches you easily in his arms.

“Truly an admirable attempt, but you’ll have to try much harder than that,” he teases smoothly.

You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he only twists his arms tighter around your waist to press you firmly against his chest. “Let me go and I will,” you reply, still trying in vain to wrench yourself free.

Loki’s answering laughter is light and makes your heart skip a beat. “Darling, I have no intention of letting you go. Not when you still owe me a kiss.”

Playfully, you turn your head to the side in a refusal to meet his request. “Nope. I don’t want to kiss you,” you pretend to huff, but barely a second later a strong hand presses against your cheek to make you face him.

And then his lips are crashing against yours.

You can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat because as long you live you’ll never grow tired of how it feels to kiss him. His lips are soft as fresh snow, and they’re moving so slowly and lazily against your own that your first instinct is to try and pull him even closer, even though you’re skin on skin.

You would melt into this man if you could.

His hands wander easily to your chest to begin pushing the sopping wet material of your robe off your shoulders, and it’s impossible not to moan into his mouth when his fingers dance over your bare skin in a hungry search for more. Yours follow beneath the water, eagerly reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants only to be met with the firm muscles of his lower stomach.

You grin into the kiss. “Presumptuous,” you tease against his lips, letting your fingers trace idly along the hardened length of him beneath the water.

“Would you have turned me down, dove?” he replies, nipping gently at your lower lip while he rolls his hips into your hand.

“No,” you breathe out, twisting yourself back around him.

It’s just you and Loki - naked, and making out in Tony Stark’s swimming pool like a pair of lust fueled teenagers. It’s invigorating, it’s addictive. Nothing on earth could make you give this man up.

The easy, languid silence of your kiss is only broken by the melody of birdsong from above and the crash of the waterfall behind you. You’re so focused on Loki - how his hands feel as they explore your body like you’re a work of art and how his hair feels tangled around your fingers - that you barely notice he’s walking you both backward in the pool until you’re hit with the full force of the waterfall from above.

It only lasts for a second, but you still pull back from Loki with a screech of shock and a look of amused exasperation. “Was that…was that really -,” you begin, only to be cut off by his mouth finding yours again.

It’s only then that you realise he’s pushed you into the little alcove hidden behind the waterfall. The Mexican sun is no longer burning down on you and instead, it’s blissfully cool. It’s comfortable.

God, how you love him.

Loki’s hands are still grasping you like he fears you’ll slip away and his lips are worshipping every part of you that he can reach. He’s everywhere all at once, almost as though you’re going to be snatched from him before he has the chance to love you.

“Beautiful thing. Enchanting creature,” he murmurs, kissing his way down your neck and setting your blood on fire.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” you manage to force the words out while his teeth nip at your skin.

You feel the wet heat of his tongue soothing the marks he’s just made, and if it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you swear you would crumble to the floor of the pool.

“Oh, darling, I’d like to see you try,” he replies, just as your back hits the smooth wall of the alcove.

You let him press you against it until you aren’t sure where he ends and you begin. His mouth is hot and heavy and demanding against yours, and already he’s wrapped a hand around your knee to coax your leg around his waist. It’s a request you grant him easily, quickly wrapping both around him to pull him tight against you and letting your heels squeeze against the flesh of his ass.

That perfect, godly ass.

Loki moans shamelessly into your mouth as your grip makes his cock brush teasingly against you. It’s one sound that you’ll never tire of hearing - the sound of your lovers pleasure - and it sends molten heat flowing through your blood.

It’s an automatic reaction to then twist your fingers tighter in his soaking curls, anything to pull that divine sound from him once again. “God, you’re sexy when you moan.” It’s a mindless comment, but it slips from your lips before you can stop it.

Because, well, he is.

You feel Loki pull back and when you peer at him through half lidded eyes, his lips are curled in that devilishly handsome smirk that sends your heart skipping in your chest. “And what of the rest of the time? Must you keep wounding me, my darling?” he teases, all while dragging his cock torturously through your cunt.

A moan flutters from you as eager fingers grasp his broad shoulders. Wantonly, you try to spread your legs further, try to invite him in, but it’s impossible when he’s already got you spread like a sin for him.

“You know I think you’re beautiful,” you breathe out, head hitting the stone behind you as the tip of his cock brushes wondrously over your clit.

His every touch feels electric and you know he’s ruined you for anyone else. Not that there’ll ever be anyone else, of course; Loki is your missing puzzle piece and your entire heart. He’s yours for keeps.

“Oh?” he answers and latches on to the sensitive skin of your neck once more, but still not easing into you the way you’re desperate for him to. “And what else, hmm?”

You laugh softly in his ear and you swear you feel him smile against your neck. You’ll play along. If he wants praise then you’ll give it to him until your lungs give out. “You’re brave. So brave. My beautiful, brave boy,” you murmur while he continues to nip along your throat.

He pauses to press a gentle, lingering kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, only to resume his path of lovebites across your collarbone.

“You’re funny. God, you’re funny, most times without even trying.” You keep going, hearing him hum in approval against your skin.

He’s been mostly silent, but you can feel how much he loves you in every press of his lips and nip of his teeth. It’s enough to have tears prick at the backs of your eyes.

“You make me feel like I’m enough every single day,” you say in little more than a whisper. You feel his lips go still against your collarbone, and then he’s pulling back to look at you with those glittering green eyes. “You’re a good person, Loki, and you’re my best friend.”

His eyes soften at the same time the water around you ripples. He clasps your face in both hands to place a blistering kiss to your waiting lips. It’s hot and heavy and passionate, and you feel it all the way down to your toes. You’re clasping his shoulders like he’s your life raft and drinking him in like oxygen.

He’s Loki. He’s all you’ll ever need.

Slowly, he pulls back from your lips to let his nose bump against yours and you feel him roll his hips, pressing the entire hardened length of his cock against your aching cunt. “Say my name,” he says huskily. It’s both an order and a plea.

“Loki…ugh!” you groan shamelessly when the tip of his cock brushes tormentingly over your clit. Your nails are digging so hard into his shoulders that you can clearly see the tiny half moons marking his skin, but he still doesn’t give you what you crave.

“Again,” he demands, unquestionable lust now dripping from his voice.

“Loki…fuck…please!” You arch your back against the cool stone as he presses against your entrance

“Again.”

“Loki!” The third cry of his name melts to a whine when he slides himself inside you in one smooth thrust, until you’re filled to the brim with your god.

Eager muscles clench desperately around him because you’re close to drunk on the solid feel of him between your legs and impatient for the first glorious thrust of his hips. It doesn’t come, though, and instead, he rests his forehead against yours while he’s buried inside you. You can feel the impatient twitch of his cock, but still, he doesn’t move.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he says softly, voicing the same thought you’ve had about him time and time again. “My beautiful little mortal. How lucky am I to call you mine.”

His voice is sweeter than honey and sends warmth flooding through your veins, filling every inch of you with so much love for him that you fear it will spill from your pores. This beautiful, perfect man - who never stops doubting how worthy he is of your love - is everything you ever dreamed of and more.

You want to tell him, to tell him that he’s the reason you breathe and the reason your world spins, but it’s impossible to convey the depth of your feelings. “I love you.” You settle on saying. It’s soft and quiet and you know he knows, but his eyes light up each and every time you tell him, and right now they’re glittering like new stars.

Will you ever tire of how devastatingly beautiful he is?

There’s another quiet ripple of calm, turquoise water as he leans in to kiss you again, and this time it’s wondrously slow and deep. It feels like magic, like he’s pouring his entire soul into this one kiss. You loop your arms tighter around his shoulders and his hips finally begin to roll against yours as equally slow and deep as his kiss.

That’s when you realise. He isn’t going to fuck you beneath this waterfall - he’s going to make love to you.

His lips are locked with yours while he moves, each slow, deliberate thrust of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you perfectly. Your quiet whimper mixes with his deep moan, and you press the heels of your feet against his ass again, pushing him deeper still with each thrust because you can never get him close enough.

“You’re…you’re amazing, Loki,” you say stupidly when you break for air. “Completely amaz…ugh!”

Your praise melts to another moan when he buries his face in your neck, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses along your flushed skin at the same you feel his hand groping around beside you.

“Take my hand,” he breathes out roughly. It’s such an innocent request that makes your heart feel like it will burst.

What did you do so right to deserve this man?

Wordlessly, you intertwine your fingers with his, feeling him squeeze your hand as he begins to build you toward the edge. He knows your body so intimately that it doesn’t take long for the first heady ripples of pleasure to flicker in your core.

Loki rests his forehead against your temple, grunting and whimpering so beautifully in your ear that it sends an inferno burning between your thighs. Each thrust of his cock has you keening and babbling out pleas for more - and more he’s only too happy to give you.

He’s filling you so beautifully and making you dance right on the edge of pleasure that you aren’t sure how much longer you’ll last without toppling over.

Loki, though, silences your worries barely a moment later with a pornographic grunt. “I’m close…darling…’m so close,” he pleads shakily as you cradle his head against you.

“Loki…I’m - “

“Cum for me,” Loki interrupts huskily with another squeeze of your hand. “Please, darling.”

Barely a second later, your climax rips through every inch of you and Loki’s name is falling from your lips like a prayer. He freefalls at the exact moment you do, pressing you firmly against the stone while he chases every last drop of his pleasure. It’s dizzying, almost, to hear his curses, his moans, his cries of your name as his orgasm shatters him.

Even more dizzying are the sounds of his deep, heavy pants in your ear as he comes down from his high, and his chest heaves against yours while you both catch your breath. You, an insignificant little mortal, have made this god unravel like string. It makes pride bloom through you and clutch him that little bit tighter to your chest.

“I love you,” Loki murmurs quietly, his lips ghosting across your cheek in the softest of kisses. “But, darling, I simply must have you again,” he teases and easily tosses you back over his shoulder.

You can’t help but laugh as he wades through the water, not even close to tired. “Maybe in a bed this time? I think that would be nice.”

His shoulder shakes beneath you. “There are 32 rooms in Stark’s humble home. I don’t plan on leaving this island until I’ve had you in each and every one of them.”

#loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki fanfiction

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buckleysbitch · 5 months

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Okay this might seem like a weird request, u srsly don’t have to write it. But can you do a fic where reader and hazel go skinny dipping? It doesn’t have to be smut it’s just like there and more meant for them to have fun as a couple. And pls make it fluffy!!! Love ur work btw <3

i love i love i love!! okay idk about y’all but i’m from a place where having in ground pools in the backyard is the norm, so let’s pretend that your house has an in ground pool if you don’t besties ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

listen to hazels spotify here ₊˚.༄

between just the last hour you’ve finished off an entire bottle of chardonnay together, so it’s easy to imagine that you’re both pretty tipsy. board games astrew on the floor, the last round of life is being wrapped up, and with one final spin, you’ve won the game.

“you suck!” she laughs.

“oh, now do i? fine, fine….one last challenge. all or nothing! uhmmm…..” your eyes scanning the room, you spot the turquoise hue of the pool. “whoever gets to the pool last has to skinny dip. deal?” it made no sense, but your drunken brains thought it was obviously the best idea since sliced bread.

clamoring through the house, hazel leaps out the door and makes it to the edge of the pool just before you….

“alright babe, alright!” blushing and giggling hysterically, you’re laughing too hard, not even at anything in particular, to even take your clothes off. hazel comes over and gently tugs at your top.

“can i take these off for you?” you nod, and she peels your top and bottoms off, realizing that you don’t have a bra on. she gazes at you for a moment, not with lust, but just pure love for every fiber of you, before tenderly dragging your underwear down your legs.

“thanks babe.” hysteria subsiding, you stumble over to the stairs leading into the pool and submerge yourself, warm water lapping against your breasts. after wading for a moment, you submerge your hair, letting it cascade down your back. once the water beads out of your eyes and your vision comes back, you see your girlfriend gawking at you.

“what? something on my face?” you giggle, and gesture for her to join. hazel strips faster than you think she’s ever done before, and with a shit eating grin, sprints towards the edge, leaping towards you. splashes of water batter onto the once dry patio, and she resurfaces, hair slicked back down her neck. a splashing contest ensues, your laughter filling the thick summer air, eyes full of chlorine.

“okay, okay! i surrender! i surrender!” she shouts, gliding over to you and kissing you to seal the truce. after a couple seconds of silence, you glance down and realize…holy shit.

“BABE!!! my tits!! they FLOAT!!”

“NO FUCKING WAY LEMME TRY.” hazel dips down, her nipples hardening against the water, and yes, they float. “HOLY FUCK!” cackling at your new discovery, you swim over to her.

lifting you into her arms, your legs wrap around her toned waist. her hair is sticking out all different directions, and her face is red from the tipsiness. hums only loud enough for you to hear escape from her, and you relax into her touch. looking up, you see the brightest star in the entire sky just above you, and you wish that every summer will be spent just like this, with your darling hazel.

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan blurb #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan headcanons #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan brainrot #hazel callahan au #bottoms 2023

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robsheridan · 9 months

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Spectagoria Magazine’s 1978 “Swimsuit Issue” mocked the popular institution with themes of pollution and global warming, depicting melting, skeletal, oil-drenched models on apocalyptic beaches. “Just a decade after the carefree innocence of the ‘Endless Summer,’ we are careening towards an uninhabitable future of poisonous air and a deadly summer that truly does not end.” Editor Sera Clairmont said she was inspired by her experience in the record-shattering British Isles heatwave of 1976, which “felt as though the whole of my skin was surrounded at all times by the bone-dry specters of imminent death, crowding ever-closer around me, nipping at my flesh.” The playful, sexy tone of “the swimsuit industry’s most lucrative marketing stunt” felt absurd to her after that experience, as she witnessed what she described as “psychic visions of a future where our relentless destruction of the planet boils it with rage, and dooms mankind to melt and crumble into the dust of our own ruin.”

It was far from the only time Spectagoria’s fashion photography drew influence from supposed visions or “visitations” from the future. But the British Isles heatwave was widely regarded as a standalone extreme weather event, and Clairmont’s prophecy of an imminently burning planet was mocked as the latest example of her supposed “mania” since going into hiding two years prior and shifting the magazine’s focus towards darker and more other-worldly themes. But while critics found its predictions easy to dismiss, still no one had any explanation for where the magazine was staging such elaborate photo shoots, who the models were, or how some of the seemingly impossible visuals were executed. Rumors intensified that Clairmont had powers to commune with realms beyond our own…

Two years later, the 1980 heatwave in the United States was among the most destructive and deadly natural disasters in US history, claiming at least 1700 lives. It was reported as an isolated extreme weather event. As was the next one. And the next one. And the next one…

---------

NOTE: Spectagoria is an ongoing work of fiction created by me. This alternate reality horror story is part of my NightmAIres narrative art series (visit that link for a lot more). NightmAIres are windows into other worlds and interconnected alternate histories, conceived/written by me and visualized with synthography and Photoshop.

If you enjoy my work, consider subscribing to my free newsletter to stay up to date on my projects, or supporting me on Patreon for frequent exclusive hi-res wallpaper packs, behind-the-scenes features, downloads, events, contests, and an awesome fan community. Direct fan support is what keeps me going as an independent creator, and it means the world to me.

#rob sheridan #nightmAIres #ai art #synthography #ai horror #synthography horror #spectagoria #sera clairmont #global warming #climate change #swimsuit issue #summer horror #summer #summertime #summer goth #alternate history

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footprintsinthesxnd · 22 days

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Trip Hazards

Massive shoutout to the lovely anon who requested this fic. I had a lot of fun writing for Blakley. Pairings: Everett Blakley x f!nurse!reader Summary: Everett Blakely has had his eye on a certain young nurse on base for a while now. When he finally plucks up the courage to ask her out he has a rather unfortunate accident.

There she was. Y/n Y/l/n. As pretty as anything. Her hair was pinned neatly in a Gibson roll while the rest of her head was covered by her white nurse's cap. Blakley sighed as he watched her count out a crate full of dressings and distributed them into piles. He could happily watch her all day.

“She’s a good-looking broad, Blakley,” Douglass agreed, watching the nurse as she began ticking off the new medical supplies on her clipboard. “I can see why you like her,” a smug smile pulled at the bombardier’s lips and his moustache twitched mischievously.

“I don’t like her, I…” Blakley turned to his friend, a little embarrassed that he’d been caught looking at the young nurse again. He couldn’t find the right words to describe how he felt about a certain Nurse Y/l/n. From the moment he’d bumped into her in the infirmary while visiting Bubbles he’d been fond of her. She was softly spoken and had an air of grace about her as she swept down the corridors in her white apron.

“You know you could just talk to her rather than keep staring,” John Egan chimed in from where he was perched on the jeep, lighting up a cigarette, the smoke floating up above their heads.

“No, I can’t. I’d just make a fool of myself,” Blakley replied adamantly, his eyes drifting away from the nurse and back to Douglass who smiled broadly.

The bombardier's moustache twitched once more as if he was going to come out with a clever comment, but Blakley’s warning glare stopped him.

“Well you look like a fool anyway standing over here staring at her,” Gale Cleven’s voice echoed from his spot beside Egan, breaking off the staring contest between Blakely and Douglass.

He turned to the Major, pushed his dark hair back and placed his hat back on his head, “Not you as well.”

Cleven held his hands up in response, but Egan answered for him, a common habit between the two Majors, “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Blakley stared at him with a deadpan expression. If he could have facepalmed he would have. Sometimes he wondered if he could smack Egan and Douglass’ head together and make sense of their comments. “Well for a start she could say no, tell me I’m a creep and then avoid me at all costs.”

The other airmen stared at him as though he’d grown an extra head, but the group remained silent until Cleven spoke up.

“Well other than that. Don’t think worst-case scenario, Blakley. You’re one of the good guys. You cause far less trouble than John.”

Egan glared at his friend and shoved him playfully. Blakley rolled his eyes at the Major’s antics. How could he think of anything serious while they continued this behaviour?

Douglass placed a hand on Blakley’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, but accompanying it with a stern look.

“Alright, I’ll go and talk to her,” Blakley sighed, straightening out his B-3 jacket that he’d worn despite the warm summer afternoon. He was now regretting that decision, and paired with his hat too he was sweating before he’d even turned in Y/n’s direction.

“That’s my boy, go and get her,” Douglass called, hoping up onto the jeep so he could watch his friend.

Blakley felt a shaky breath escape his lips as he took a few tentative steps forward. His eyes were so focused on Y/n that he didn’t hear Lemmons whistling for Meatball, or the large grey object that streaked across his path, not until his leg connected with the object and he went flying through the air.

Meatball seemed unphased by her collision, continuing to trot towards Lemmons while Blakley flailed on the floor.

He could hear his fellow airmen’s cheers and jests from behind him, but it was when he met Y/n’s eyes from across the airstrip that his heart dropped. She’d looked up briefly from her clipboard and their eyes had met before he buried his head back into the dirt.

This couldn’t be happening. No. No. No.

It was the ruckus of laughter that alerted Y/n to the group of airmen standing by the jeep, their heads thrown back in fits of laughter. Her eyes fell on their fallen comrade in front of them, his whole body pressed firmly against the ground. She’d recognise that dark head of hair anywhere as Major Everett Blakley.

She’d seen the Major around often, in the pub in Dicklesburg or the officer club at one of the many on-base parties. She vividly remembered their first meeting while she was nursing Bubbles Payne. He’d been blushing like a schoolboy and her heart had instantly begun to race as their eyes met over the bed.

She watched as his friends continued to laugh at his discomfort and other than the way his limbs flexed against the ground, there was no sign of life. She glanced back down at her clipboard listing medical supplies before placing it down on the crate. Inventory could wait until later.

She removed the cloth that covered her hair and stuffed it into her apron pocket, smoothing down any loose hairs that may have sprung up. She wasn’t sure what it was about Everett Blakley but he always made her heart beat a little faster.

“Are you alright, Major?” She asked, standing above him as her shadow covered his face. He just shook his head, mumbling something into the earth that she couldn’t make out.

Sighing, Y/n crouched beside him, ignoring the way her white apron draped against the ground. Her eyes flicked over to James Douglass who was still bent double. Anytime she had seen Blakley, Douglass had never been far behind.

Her bright eyes flicked over to Major Egan and Major Cleven who had also participated in the laughter despite their fellow airman’s embarrassment. She gave them a look, similar to the one her mother would give her brothers when she’d finally had enough of their antics. The two Majors seemed to catch on and began to usher the men away, but not before Douglass shouted, “Go get her, Blakley.”

So this was what it was all about.

“Are you alright, Major?” Y/n asked, kneeling now and placing a hand on Blakley’s shoulder. She could just make out the pink tips of his ears from beneath the collar of his B-3 bomber jacket. She wasn’t sure why he was wearing it on such a warm day but that was probably contributing to the flush on his cheeks.

“I’m quite well, thank you,” he spoke gruffly against the ground, moving his head just a fraction.

“Right… Do you want to get up then?”

Blakey merely shook his head and had he been looking at Yn he’d have seen her with a more than confused expression.

Y/n huffed, nestling down beside the Major. At her touch, Blakley’s head shot up. He had grass and mud pressed into his right cheek, and a single blade of grass stuck to his lip.

“What are you doing?” He asked seriously, but Y/n couldn’t suppress the chuckle that fell from her lips.

“I’m sitting here with you.”

Blakley cocked an eyebrow and waited for her to elaborate.

“Well, you took quite the tumble and it’s my job to make sure you’re alright.” Y/n pointed at the Red Cross on her armband. “Can’t have one of our brave pilots injuring themselves on my watch.”

Blakley pushed himself up into a sitting position, brushing off the front of his jacket but forgetting his face.

“As you can see,” He cleared his throat, “I’m fine.” He couldn’t help the way his heart pounded in his chest, the blood rushed through his ears loudly. He wondered if Y/n could hear his heart beating too.

“Other than your wounded pride I would imagine,” she suggested and Blakley’s face grew red once more. “It’s okay to be clumsy, I’m clumsy too.” Y/n pulled her long white apron up to just above her knees, revealing multiple purple bruises, “I’m always falling over things.”

Blakley swallowed hard, his eyes travelling over the nurse's pale flesh. He felt his cheeks growing warmer and he cleared his throat, removing his gaze from her body. He should have been looking far more respectfully than he was.

Y/n seemed to notice his blush and reached over, linking her hand through his. Blakley glanced down at their joined hands, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips.

“There are worse things to be than clumsy,” Y/n added, her bright eyes meeting Blakley’s with a kind smile. “You could have a moustache like Douglass.”

Blakley chuckled, running his thumb over his own moustache, neatening the corners.

A gasp and a muffled shout from behind them confirmed that Douglass was in fact listening to their conversation.

A brunette head appeared beside the jeep and Major Egan flashed them a smile, as he marched Douglass away despite his protests regarding his rather ‘fetching’ moustache.

Blakley chuckled, turning back to the girl in front of him. There definitely were worse things than being clumsy, and who knows, maybe being clumsy was the best thing that could have happened to him.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @beebeechaos @forsythiagalt @prettyinlimegreenboots

#Everett Blakley #masters of the air #hbo war #mota #everette Blakely x reader #masters of the air x reader #james douglass #gale cleven #john egan

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sweetheartsaku · 3 months

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—ot5 txt ; txt in season

a/n ; [fem!reader] i had a crisis tryna choose the title.. it took me like 46 configurations bc it was either too length-y or i js didnt like it 😭 ANYWAYS ITS A WAVE TO EARTH REFRENCE

delphinium !

yeonjun ; summer

BEACH DATES, loves the idea of just sunbaking (i live in australia and its BAD BAD), enjoys packing stuff with you, when you've fallen asleep under the sun he angles the beach umbrella in a way you don't get burnt, you love the look on girl's faces when you hand him a water bottle after he was messing around at the recreational beach volley.

soobin ; winter

you could never admit it but you LOVE when you feel his warm coat drape around your shoulders, always intertwining his hands with yours and blows warm air on them, watches cheesy rom-coms and shojou animes under the covers in a little fort, you love the warm feeling your stomach (and your heart) has when he takes you to a ramen place.

beomgyu ; summer

laying on the cold floor after long days, interlocking pinkies as the only source of affection, ALWAYS HOGGING THE MOTHERFLIPPIN' FAN JUST TO ANNOY YOU, going to the beach but only for sandcastles and collect seashells to make little jewellery, always takes a sip of your very enjoyable cold beverage, eating ice mukbang is needed on a basis, LATE NIGHT WALKS>>>

taehyun ; spring

chalk art contest!!!, loves seeing you in flowy dresses, takes you to SO MANY FLOWER FARMS, feeding the ducks at your local park, but your highlight of spring HAS to be picking blueberries at the blueberry farm, he absolutely adores the smile on your face while making little pastries with him after, "look at this blueberry! its so dark it kinda looks like your boba eyes, tae..." then gives you the most endearing smile known to mankind.

kai ; autumn

PLEASE TAKE HIM ICE-SKATING ITS SO FUNNY (you kinda feel bad for him when he falls), takes you on dainty little picnics under the amber leaves!!, usually its staying home and being in each others presence, also watching anime together but its at 2am and yall are just giggling to yourselves while watching haikyuu, holds your hand then puts your laced hands in his pocket. <3

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bluesylveon2 · 1 year

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And At Last I See the Light

This is my entry for the @merotwst and @cvlutos' contest. Also, I heard that it was your birthday, so happy birthday to @merotwst!!! Thank you for answering all of my questions, even though I started writing his a few days ago. I hope you like this fic I word vomited wrote based on "I See the Light" from Tangled (it's my favorite Disney song and it screamed Jamil) 😁

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

Note: Reader is referred to as "the Prefect" and is female, set during Book 5 (let's pretend that Jamil can sneak and the snow has melted some), and lots of symbolism

Word Count: 1246

Warnings: not beta read, possible OOC characters, and lots of exposition in the beginning

Jamil was used to being below Kalim. No matter if it was in studies, exercises, or games, Kalim had to outshine him in it all. If Kalim was a warm sunny day in the summer, then Jamil was a cold dark night in the winter.

Everyone preferred the summer, just as everyone preferred Kalim.

No one looked Jamil’s way. No one asked about how he felt. No one wanted to spend their days in the moonlight when they could sleep until sunrise. In short, no one wanted him to shine his light on them. In turn, Jamil was blinded by the sun that he could not see the world around him. The male was subjected to dreaming about a life where he was free.

When Jamil saw his life become stagnant, he was determined to change it. The air became colder, and the night was longer when Jamil enacted his plan. Unfortunately, his plan was ruined by the Ramshackle Prefect, her cat monster, and the annoying Octanvielle trio.

Life after the incident had slightly improved. He still served Kalim, but the Housewarden started seeing him as equal despite their positions. Jamil would not say it aloud, but it was a small step in the right direction.

Another change included his relationship with the Prefect. The two had gotten on friendlier terms after he made up for trapping her and Grim in Scarabia and dealing with his overblot (read: he made a big apology meal for her and helped with anything she asked). The two had become even closer during the VDC training camp.

It was during the time when the snow began to melt, and after everyone was asleep, was when the Prefect would stargaze outside the dorm. However, all except one was asleep the first time it happened. Jamil, having to be constantly alert in case an assassin was nearby, woke up to the sound of a creaking floor down the hall. He grabbed his magical pen and followed a dark shadow heading out of the dorm. He maintained a reasonable distance from the figure until the moonlight hit the figure’s frame. Jamil realized that the person he followed was the Prefect all along. An average person would immediately turn around and go back to sleep, but his feet moved automatically, and he joined her instead.

That night, Jamil had stayed up for hours getting to know the Prefect without using a fake persona or with no ill intentions. The Prefect treated him like she had known him for a long time. She had even defended him when Vil questioned Jamil’s eyebags that morning. Usually, Jamil would have told the truth, but he enjoyed spending alone time with the Prefect. He learned more about the Prefect’s world and her love of stargazing. In turn, the Prefect learned about different places Jamil wanted to see.

Their nightly stargazing continued during his time at the training camp. After a few nights, Jamil realized how blind he was about everything.

All his days were spent watching outside the windows of Kalim’s house. All of the years of the world moving, he yearned to see it. He never knew if anyone would look his way or ask anything about him, yet that person was in front of him all along. That person was sitting beside him, basking in the moonlight, retelling a story about an incident regarding her friends and the Heartslabyul Housewarden. It was when she laughed that Jamil saw everything clearly. His heartbeat increased, his body felt light, and he began to think about the Prefect more throughout the day. Jamil realized that night that he would follow the Prefect to the ends of the world. He wanted to show her the world because he knew she was where he was meant to go.

When the Prefect first arrived at Twisted Wonderland, she dreamed of when she would finally return to her world. Her mind was focused on going home and initially tried to ignore the world around her. However, she began to doubt her dream after meeting Grim, ADeuce, and the other NRC students. One person who stood out to her was Jamil Viper. Her perspective of him changed after the incident in Scarabia. She forgave him after everything because she saw his true self and how amazing and talented he was. The Prefect never looked down on him or saw him as average. She treated him as an equal.

Now, as the Prefect lay on the soft blanket at a short distance next to the male in question, she realized something as they stared at the twinkling stars in content silence. During her months of staying in this world, of her blindly hoping for the better, she grew to love how things were. The Prefect had love from her friends, entertainment from the Ramshackle ghosts, and support from her professors. Most importantly, she had Jamil. Although Kalim was the sun personified, she always noticed Jamil despite him staying in the shadows. Now, everything seemed crystal clear; she saw him. He was a light that felt warm and real, like sunshine on a summer day.

“Hey, Jamil?” The Prefect turned to the raven-haired male, and he hummed in response. “What is your favorite season?”

Jamil raised an eyebrow and turned his head to the Prefect, “what’s with the sudden question?”

The Prefect turned to stare into Jamil’s gray eyes, “I’m just curious. So what is it?”

“Summer, because summers in the Scalding Sands are nice. It is also a good time to take a vacation.”

The Prefect chuckled, “You deserve one, Jamil.”

Jamil nodded in agreement, “What is your favorite season?”

“Definitely winter.”

Jamil raised an eyebrow, “Really? Why?”

“Well, there is snow and lots of fun holidays. The nights are longer too. In summer, the nights are short, so the moon is not out for long,” The Prefect looked up at the bright full moon, “In winter, the moon is out longer, like now. I like to use that time to look up and stare at it. I prefer it more than the sun. Besides-” The Prefect glanced at Jamil, “Don’t you think the moon looks beautiful tonight?”

Jamil felt his breath hitch. He could not explain it, but the Prefect’s words seemed to impact him unexpectedly. Jamil thanked the darkness for covering up his blush, and he prayed that she could not hear his rapid heartbeat.

Meanwhile, the Prefect was having an internal battle about her boldness. Jamil may not know the implications behind her words, but she meant everything. She would focus on spending time with him and let him see another day.

“Yeah. It really is,” The Prefect’s eyes widen due to Jamil’s voice sounding closer than before. She turned her head and was face to face with him, with his eyes staring straight at her. Both had red faces.

They stared at each other like it was their first time seeing the light. Their hidden feelings began to reveal as if the fog around them had lifted, the sky was anew, and the world shifted to focus on them. No one knew whose hands moved first, but Jamil had one hand on the Prefect’s cheek while both of her hands cupped his face. They moved closer until their lips barely touched each other.

Now they saw each other as a new light grew between them. The two people complimented each other like summer and winter, or the sun and the moon.

A/N: I'm kinda proud of it although I wish I started later. Again, I hope you liked it @merotwst. Jamil is my favorite character so I hope I did him justice!

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

#jamilssummercontest #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #jamil viper

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blossom-hwa · 1 year

Note

materializes on your blog's metaphorical doorstep hi lina :DD

can i get a uhhhh hanji best friends idiots to lovers au (where he thinks they've been dating for a while and get confused when mc confesses) ??

alright thanks lina :DD

- person who lives in ur walls

to the person living in my walls: please get out of there. it's really cold. at least let me give you a blanket. or accept this idiots to lovers au as a way to get warm idk it's so stupid and fluffy and everyone is an idiot so maybe it'll warm you up idk I'm rambling hope you enjoy

summertime drabble fest: send me an idol from the list (Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, Seventeen) + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

REQUESTS OPEN!!

Title: Expectations, Complications

Pairing: Jisung x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 2.1k

Genre: fluff, a pinch of angst, best friends to lovers, university!au

Warnings: cursing

The minute Jisung hits play, you know you're fucked.

Okay, no. Backtrack. Rewind. That's not where it starts—it's not even close.

It starts in high school. Senior year, prom. No one asked you out, and no one asked Jisung, so you went with a crowd of your friends and their dates. You drank. You danced. You screamed and laughed and cried at the afterparty, and you ended up on the roof of the party house at four in the morning, drunk and giggly and Jisung's head on your shoulder.

Still one of the best nights of your life, no contest. But it was in one of those moments, when you mumbled something incoherent and Jisung just giggled in response (before the two of you stumbled home together and spent the next morning nursing ridiculous hangovers in your respective houses), that you realized—that Jisung wasn't a friend. Not in the way you'd thought before, at least. That he was something else, something different, a friend and a thousand other things rolled into one—that you were fucked as hell for letting this happen.

But no. Maybe not. Maybe it wasn't then. Not senior year, not prom, but when you finally got your driver's license in sophomore year and drove Jisung out to get boba at your favorite place for the first time. No need to ask a friend for a ride, no need to beg your parents to take you to get your stupid boba fix for the week. Just you, your parents' shittiest car, and Jisung in the passenger seat rolling down the familiar roads to the tiny little cafe, and then sweet drinks in hand with tapioca pearls chewy between your teeth as you watched Jisung laugh loud and hard, his eyes squinted against the afternoon sun. You didn't know, not then, but you did know. Somehow. You didn't but you did, and the image is burned into your mind and it's never once gone away. It never will. And that's how you know you're fucked.

Except—it might not have been then. It could've been middle school, maybe. When someone kicked a soccer ball into your face and Jisung held your hand all the way to the tiny school clinic despite the fact that all middle schoolers thought holding hands was weird and gross. Or it could've been the summer before when you ran to the park together and jumped on the swings, rising higher, higher, higher into the air as the sun burned golden in the sky. Or maybe after the two week long fight you had (the longest one you've ever had, and you don't even remember what it was about) when you couldn't stand it anymore and decided to walk over to Jisung's house to apologize, only to swing open the door and find him on your doorstep first.

It could have been anything. A thousand and one moments in time, spread out over the years that have passed. Elementary school, middle school, high school, your first years of college—boba stores, the mall in your hometown, the neighborhood park—it could have been anything. Any combination. But see, the point is—

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter. None of it does. Not the exact day you knew, not the immediate second you realized, not the sheer length of time during which you've loved your best friend. Because you couldn't give an answer if someone asked, not to a single one of those questions, because with you, it's always been him. He's your beginning, your end. Your start, your finish. Everything you've ever known and wanted, everything you'll ever need.

And so when Jisung hits play and the song he wrote for you begins playing through the headphones you bought him for his last birthday, you know. You've known all along, distantly, but now—

You know well and truly for certain that you are incredibly, irrevocably fucked.

. . . . . There are tears in your eyes when the song finally ends and for a moment, Jisung's heart stops. Tears—what are they for? Happiness? Sadness? He didn't quite think that this song was—sad, per se, but maybe it was sadder than he thought, or too much too fast because after all you've only been dating for four weeks and five days—barely over a month—and god-fucking-damn-it now he's on the verge of hyperventilating because holy shit what if he just made the biggest mistake of his stupid twenty one years of life—

"I'm so sorry," he gasps out.

You turn around in the chair to face him but he can't meet your eyes. "I'm sorry, it was probably such a shitty song, or like I shouldn't have let you hear it now—it's too early and you probably weren't ready I'm so so so so sorry—"

"No!"

The sheer volume of that single word ends his rambling. Which is pretty impressive given that when Jisung is nervous, he tends to talk. And talk and talk and talk. Which is—bad. At least now. Because you're taking a deep breath, way too deep for you to be saying anything good in the next beat, but all Jisung can do now is hold his own breath and pray.

Dear God, if you can hear me, I know I haven't been the best when it comes to believing in you and I'm still mad you didn't hear my prayers last semester right before my Calc II final, but if I've done even a single good thing in my life please don't make it so that I messed this up, not when it's barely been a month since I started dating Y/N.

"Jisung, I..." You take the headphones off, placing them carefully on the desk. Your fingers twist in your lap, a familiar nervous habit of yours that doesn't do much to quell the anxiety building in his throat.

When you don't continue, Jisung opens his mouth. He can't help it. He needs to say something, anything, apologize again and pray that you'll help him forget this ever happened—

"I'm so sorry," you blurt out.

Jisung's heart drops. Shatters on the ground. I'm so sorry. He messed up, he messed up so bad—

"I'm sorry," you repeat, and your eyes are so shiny with tears it hurts. "I—I can't do this anymore."

He tries to speak. To move. Salvage something of this relationship. But nothing happens. Every muscle in him has frozen.

"Jisung, I—" The tears start to spill. "I'm so sorry. I can't do this. I love you, I love you so much and I—it's not just as a friend—"

Wait.

What?

"The song was beautiful." You're properly sobbing now, hands harshly wiping the tears from your eyes as you hunch over in the chair while Jisung still can't move. "Brilliant and lovely and I just—I can't. Because I know you just think we're friends—"

What the fuck.

"—but I can't keep it in anymore, I can't keep just thinking of you as a friend because I love you, I've been in love with you for so long it hurts, and I—I won't be able to stand it if this song was just about our friendship because I—it would hurt too much—"

"Y/N."

Jisung's mouth moves without his brain telling it to. And to his surprise, you stop talking. He hadn't thought he'd quite spoken loud enough for you to hear.

"I—Y/N." All the fear that's been building up since the start of your spiel melts away into pure confusion because—what the fuck? The two of you have been dating for a month now, four weeks and five days—he asked you to dinner and said "it's a date" and you didn't disagree, just smiled so widely and nodded—and he held your hand and you talked for hours and then he walked you to your dorm and—

"Haven't we been dating for a month already?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times. Silence stretches for a moment that seems way longer than just a moment, and then you finally open your mouth and utter a single word.

"What?"

Oh, fuck. Now he's panicking. "I—I asked you out, right, like for dinner? A month ago? And then I said 'it's a date' and I—you said yes, I think if I haven't been hallucinating this whole time, and we got dinner and it was a date and then we kept going out—like to the amusement park last week? Just us? Were they—" And now for all his rambling a couple seconds ago, his voice dwindles to a whisper because his throat suddenly hurts and he's not going to be able to stand it if you say no—

"Were they not dates?"

Your mouth opens and closes. At least you've stopped crying, Jisung thinks helplessly.

"I—I thought you meant that as a joke." Your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and confused and god fucking damn it, Jisung really wants to hug you right now. "I thought—I mean, we get dinner together all the time, we do all these things together, I thought you were just being…normal?"

Oh dear.

Oh fucking dear.

"But it was just us two!" Jisung bursts out. You flinch. Oh, shit. Too loud. "Sorry," he apologizes, hunching into his shoulders. "But—I—it was just us two, all these times. Right?"

You blink about a million times again. "…Right."

"I meant them to be dates," Jisung says miserably. God, he's such a fuck up—how did he fail at asking you out this badly?

You swallow. Your throat bobs once, twice, a third time. "So we've been dating…this whole time?"

Jisung cringes. "I thought we were."

"Oh." You cringe too now, eyes riveted to your fingers twisting tightly in your lap. "Wow. I'm so stupid."

"No, I am." Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, then forces them open again. "Sorry. I should've been clearer—I mean, uh, assuming you still want to date, it's totally okay if you don't I guess—"

"No!"

Jisung freezes. No as in what? You don't want to date? You want to date? He shouldn't have been clearer? What—

"No," you repeat, voice softer now. "I—I really want to date you, Jisung. I really do." Your words are trembling but this time your gaze is steady. "I really, really want to. I'm just—I'm sorry I didn't realize it when you asked the first time."

Jisung laughs nervously. Scratches the back of his neck. "Well, uh, I probably could've asked better. More directly." He cringes. God, he's such a fucking embarrassment. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault I'm dense." You give him a little sheepish smile and Jisung nearly faints, it's so good to see a smile on your face after he just made you cry with a song. "Does that mean…this song…"

Ah. Yeah. "That was a song about you," Jisung says quietly. His ears are probably so, so red. "About how I…I really love you."

In your seat, you remain still for one moment, then two. Then, just as Jisung's about to start screaming out loud instead of just in his head because what if that was too much too soon too, you launch yourself off the chair and into his arms.

"Oof."

"Sorry." Your lips move against his shoulder as his arms automatically slide around your waist, pulling you closer as he always has—since the day so many years ago when you decided to be best friends on the playground and sealed it with a hug. "I love you. A lot. And—" You take a deep breath, shaky in your throat but not with tears this time, just a little bit of a laugh. "I'm sorry I'm so stupid."

Slowly, slowly, Jisung's hand rises up your back. Comes to stop behind your head, holding you as close to him as he can.

"It's okay," he murmurs, a smile finally beginning to curve his own lips. I love you so much. "And, uh. Don't worry." He cringes into you, but it doesn't feel so bad now. Not when he's pressed against your warmth this time and can feel your smile against his shoulder. "I'm a little stupid, too."

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

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every corner of my mind | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

Yes, it's based on 'Left and Right' by Charlie Puth and JK, so do I really have to write a summary? He's thinking about the nights tangled up in your bed.

warnings: thinking about sex (obv); unrequited love(?); non-idol!AU - JK's POV, ft protective Kim Taehyung

Do you remember? He did. The little things. The way her fingers moved when she slid her rings back on. The way her tongue licked her teeth when she was considering something, a smooth motion under her lips. The casual way she would wave as he left her bedroom. The way her fingers curled and seemed to dance as she did so, teasing him. Like it was cool, like there was no pressure, like she could move back into everyday life without thinking much about it.

Jeon Jungkook stared into his glass and asked the her in his memory if she remembered too.

He should have been thinking about himself, stuff he wanted to do, dreams he still had, but his thoughts were a maze and there were flashes of her in every corner of his mind, little things, like the way her lips felt on his skin, the way her hand covered his eyes, the way her whispers filled his ear, he could feel it still, ghostly sensations that haunted him, tangling him, memories of their limbs interlocked and her smirk on his shaking lips, I’m gonna fuck you up.

It was a joke, she didn’t really mean it, but it happened anyway.

He stared at his reflection in his glass.

It was distorted from the cuts in the crystal, leaving only strange images of tan skin, a murmur of silver from his piercings, and dark slashes of his half-open eyes and black hair. The drink was gone. He thought about getting another but now he was stuck in his head, stumbling through the maze of memories, those hands, those lips, that playful bite on his shoulder that she liked to do, low enough so his shirt usually covered it, but, who knows, maybe she would do it a little higher one time so that everyone knew about him and her.

She never did.

And now it was a single summer that lived in his dreams, dreams where he crawled onto her bed, curiously waiting for her head to turn and the side of her lips quirk up, tossing her phone aside and sliding her hand against his jaw, bringing his face to hers, playfully flicking his lip ring before kissing him and taking his breath away.

Eh, he had told himself back then. It’s not a big deal. People move all the time for work. I can get another girl. It wasn’t that serious.

Now he told himself something different.

You stupid dummy.

“Don’t look.”

Jungkook raised his head from the staring contest he was having with his used glass, turning, and the sensations of the restaurant rushed back, clinking and conversation, the smell of rich, heavy food and strong fragrances mixing together, and Kim Taehyung had returned from the bathroom, strikingly handsome in a loose patterned dress shirt, half-buttoned, paired with coffee-colored slacks. He was looking to the other side of the bar, to the tables.

Jungkook’s eyes followed, looking left and right.

All of a sudden, he felt a hand on his head yank him back to looking forward.

“I said, don’t look.”

But he had already seen it, the hint of silver rings and a casual wave.

Curling fingers dancing in the air, teasing the receiver.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Is she… by herself?” he managed to force out, no longer looking forward, but back, back into memories of tangled sheets and lips against lips, whispering her name, her simple response, her little, yeah, Jungkook? So close that all he could see were her eyes glittering with mischief and maverick, reminding him of a cat. Trapped in the heat, warm and wet and all around, melting him with her fire until that was all he could feel, hot summer burning brighter and hotter than ever before, summer nights of her fingertips walking over his heaving, sweaty chest, struggling to catch his breath, and her soft chuckle, want a glass of water?

“Could I have a glass of water, please?”

With ice?

“Oh, with ice. Please. It’s hot tonight, hah. Yeah, supposed to be scorching all week.”

Jungkook couldn’t breathe. Taehyung’s hand was still on his head, a comforting weight that was keeping him from collapsing.

“Ah, could I see the menu? Just one cocktail before leaving.”

“She’s by herself, yeah,” Taehyung mumbled quietly, sliding into the seat next to him.

Were you by yourself all this time? Jungkook was still asking the memory of her even though he could hear her voice. The same playfulness to it, like she was holding a string with a toy at the end of it and she was waiting for the listener to catch it, somehow becoming caught up with her every word. She was the kind of person that seemed unapproachable, so when she struck up conversation it seemed like a great gift, a moment of being caught off guard and scrambling to look cool, because maybe, just maybe, she was alone and looking for something.

“Oh, me? I came to visit my friend. He works here, but I don’t anymore. What a shame, I had forgotten what a nice area this is. Do you live nearby, bartender?”

Jungkook’s heart plummeted to the floor and shattered into a billion pieces.

Taehyung sucked in a breath beside him, wincing.

“Don’t.”

Oh… Taehyung must have recognized the person she was with. He would not have that reaction if it was a stranger. Don’t. But how could he not? How? Days and nights and lost time to tangled memories in every corner of his mind, her laugh at his funny faces, her tussling with his sweaty hair to annoy him, her little, yeah, Jungkook? With the quirk of her lips, yeah, Jungkook, and him telling himself, eh, I’m not gonna get too attached, his tongue toying with his lip ring as he teasingly whispered her name back in response, not knowing then that he was wrong.

“This one? Ah, okay, I’m trusting your recommendation, bartender. There will be con-se-quences if I’m not satisfied, mmm? Haha, I’m just kidding!”

Don’t.

But how could he not, when he could feel the ghost of her hands on his shoulders, her cheek against his hair, both of them looking out to the summer night? Open window and night sky, the stars of their universe humming between their spent bodies, and how could he stop the thoughts now?

What kind of guy are you letting you in your bed now? Are they better than me? Are they the reason you don’t come back to find me, the reason you forgot about my body against yours, the reason you teasingly wave at someone else that isn’t me?

Jungkook raised his head.

Taehyung turned his, the shadow of his worried expression in his periphery but Jungkook was already looking at the one who got away.

Why are you still so beautiful?

She was wearing a cute white dress with a watermelon print on it, thin straps to show off her shoulders and collarbones, smiling at the drink being placed in front of her, scattering swirls of red syrup streaming down bubbly clear liquid, fresh summer fruit as the garnish.

Yeah, Jungkook?

He got up from his seat.

Taehyung grabbed the bottom of his shirt.

Jungkook broke out of his friend’s grip.

He heard his name in two voices.

“Jungkook-ah, don’t, I don’t want you to be heartbroken again–”

But the deep baritone just melded into the mess of sounds that made up the establishment, no more interesting than a light fixture or a napkin on a table, because her head lifted as she took a sip, and he saw his reflection in her eyes, cat-like curiosity that he wanted to replace with mischief and maverick, his favorite gaze as they were tangled up in her bed, now just shadows stuck in his head. The recognition rippled through her features and she immediately lowered the drink.

Yeah, Jungkook?

Don’t.

“Jeon Jungkook? Is that you?”

He knew he shouldn’t, but then she smiled and he was a goner.

There were people between them, and he could barely hear her, but he knew her voice and saw her lips move, so it didn’t matter, even through the noise and the music that separated them. He breathed her name and felt his voice crumple. There was no way that she heard it. He had to try again, trying to straighten out his closed-up throat, and he saw her move, almost hazily, the edges of the world blurring as she slipped off the seat and swept towards him, the bright green and pink of watermelons swirling into his vision, and then her hands touched his cheeks, lifting his head, those eyes in his vision, close once again, just like a dream.

“What’s with that face?” she asked, her brows falling, smile rueful now. “Am I uglier than you remember?”

He used to think about all the things he would say to get her back again. Magical things, beautiful things, stupid wonderful things he heard in dramas, but all Jungkook could do was break through her hold and kiss her right there.

Really, the most awful idea ever.

Like, actually the worst, because she didn’t ask for it and because she probably had someone else. Words would have been a whole lot better. Literally anything. Haven’t seen you in a couple years. You look great. Nice dress. How’s your job? What’s it like? Do you still like biting into popsicles like a weirdo? Did you miss me? Anything.

Her lips were still as soft and lovely as Jungkook remembered.

Her tongue flicked his lip ring and he gasped, jerking back, the action leaving a tingling sensation coursing through his chest, scrambling to pick up his shattered heart off the floor.

She smiled at him, laughing a little.

“S-S-Sorry, I–I… I…”

“Well I was going to ask you if you remembered me, but I guess you do, huh?”

Those eyes, glittering with mischief and maverick now.

“You’re even more beautiful now than back then,” Jungkook heard himself saying, answering her question from before.

Then she did something odd.

She let out a soft chuckle and rubbed her neck. A wisp of doubt dancing through those eyes, and then she cleared her throat, gazing up at him, and then there was a heavy sense of seriousness, a clear determination.

“I meant to ask, but it never seemed like that right time, because I, well, I was the one who thought career was more important than…” She trailed off, shaking her head, then starting again. “Anyway, I don’t want there to be any hard feelings between us. I really liked you then, but I wasn’t sure if you thought about me in the same light.” She cleared her throat again, looking sheepish. “Which I realize is not exactly fair to say, but I felt like I needed to say it, it’s been so long and there’s never gonna be a good time with how inept I am at…”

She didn’t finish, but he knew.

Summer nights with her hands on his shoulders after she did things to him that he could never forget, and he hesitated then, it was crazy, it was summer love that thrived on heavy heat and rushing wind through their hair with the car windows down, singing on the top of their lungs to whatever came on shuffle, even if they didn’t know the lyrics, trying to sound as deafeningly awful as possible before falling into her bed with hoarse laughter and fading to the sound of kisses.

It shouldn’t stay with him until now, day and night.

He felt Taehyung’s touch on his lower back, reminding him that his friend was right there to fall back to.

“I, uh… I have my own place now,” Jungkook heard himself saying and then he was saying it, falling out of his thoughts and into reality. “I miss talking to you more than anything in the world.”

She bit her lip.

Then she smirked a little, the slight hesitation the only indication of a cover-up.

“Just the talking bit, huh?”

It was like she was bracing herself for a hit.

He felt himself smiling.

“There’s a whole playlist of songs I keep that remind me of you, but it never seemed like the right time and I wasn’t sure if you saw me in the same light, because I’ve always liked you, even now.”

A really bad idea.

She didn’t even live in the area anymore. Really, the most awful idea ever. Like, actually the worst. He was dooming them as surely as she doomed them from moving away in the first place, but he could still feel her playful whisper in his left ear, in his right ear, those eyes glittering with mischief and maverick under him, those sinful lips asking him, what are you gonna do now, when she had him trapped between her thighs.

Jungkook did the same thing he did back then.

He gave up willingly with a smile.

“Hey, don’t do this to him.”

Oh right, Taehyung was here.

He felt the hand on his shoulder and Taehyung rose up next to him, letting out a weighted exhale, taking her eyes away from Jungkook, and he immediately wanted them back.

“I’m not going to try and get involved in your business, but this guy is a total sap and I don’t want to have to be sweeping him up and putting him in a jar because he can’t collect himself after you leave again.”

“Ah…” She nodded, looking apologetic. “Well, actually, I came and had dinner with Yoongi. He’s moving out of his apartment, he said he wanted to be closer to a park for Holly, so I was asking if I could rent it since I… I asked for my old job back.” She looked very awkward now, chewing on her lip. “I didn’t really like living out there. I felt like I stuck out too much in such upscale places and I didn’t know anybody… which doesn’t really matter I guess, but I kept thinking about…”

Her eyes shifted and Jungkook felt a strange tingling flutter at that split second of eye contact.

“How the money was good but the atmosphere sucked, haha,” she finished, looking at Taehyung once more and shaking her head, chuckling. “But maybe I just gave up too fast.”

She stepped back.

Jungkook furrowed his brows.

“Mm, anyway, great to see you guys again. I should finish my drink and head back.”

She smirked and it was a cover-up.

She waved, her fingers curling and dancing in the air weakly.

Almost turned around.

Jungkook broke out of Taehyung’s hold on his shoulder and placed his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him, cat-like curiosity, but it was still there, more and more every time she looked at him, mischief and maverick, and he hoped that he took up every corner of her mind or, if not, he hoped she would let him make enough memories to do so.

“Do you have to go back right away?” Jungkook asked, dragging out the words with particular emphasis.

Yes, that familiar gaze was getting stronger, the side of her lips quirking upwards.

“I should…”

He gave her the wordless expression of, what are you goona do, though?

“Pay for my drink, at least,” she snickered.

This night, they were tangled up in his bed.

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader

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likecastle · 1 year

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Ronance Femslash February - "that is impressive... and a little frightening."

OK, this is it! The final Ronance Femslash February prompt comes from @annieofhearts, and it comes in the form of a little Upside Down missing scene.

Thank you again to everyone who sent in prompts this month, and everyone who's shown so much kind enthusiasm for these little fics. This was such a lovely experience, and I hope you all had fun, too! I am planning to put these fics up on AO3 eventually, so if you have a preference about how I archive them, please let me know. In the meantime, you can find all the prompts I’ve filled here.

“So you’re, like, really into guns, huh?”

Nancy doesn’t answer for a moment, focusing on navigating over a stretch of ground that’s particularly overgrown with vines. “I’m not into them,” she says at last.

“OK, sure, says the girl who keeps multiple firearms in her bedroom.”

Nancy rolls her eyes and wishes Steve and Eddie hadn’t fallen behind. She’s glad that she and Robin are officially friends now, but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t sort of prefer to have the boys here as a conversational buffer.

“I just—” Nancy shrugs. She doesn’t like having to explain herself under the best of circumstances, and any explanation for this particular interest that she could possibly offer definitely wouldn’t put an end to Robin’s apparent conviction that she’s some kind of Second Amendment-loving gun nut. “They’ve come in handy on occasion, that’s all. I like to be prepared.”

“Right,” Robin says, with a soft laugh.

They walk a little further in silence, and then Robin says, “Did you know that Annie Oakley could snuff out a candle with a bullet?”

“I . . . did not,” Nancy admits.

“It’s true,” Robin says, warming up to the topic. “I had this book about Annie Oakley when I was a kid and, uh, let’s just say I was kind of obsessed. She was only five feet tall, and she met the man who became her husband when she beat him in a shooting contest. Supposedly, she used to shoot a cigarette out of his mouth during her show. Oh! And she could also hit a dime while it was in the air, which, like, how is that even possible?”

Nancy makes a thoughtful noise, considering a trick like that.

“Wait,” Robin says, turning to her with wide eyes, “really?”

Nancy thinks about the winter after Will disappeared, how she spent so many frozen hours out at the junkyard, practicing with Lonnie Byers’ handgun on smaller and smaller targets. She thinks about the weekend she spent at Stacey’s parents’ cabin the following summer, when they’d found an old skeet thrower in the basement, and she hit shot after shot after shot, until they ran out of clay pigeons. So she’s not sure she could hit something as small as a dime, but she wouldn’t rule it out, either. She shrugs one shoulder.

“OK,” Robin says, “so what I’m hearing is that you’re not denying you’ve shot a dime out of the air.”

“I’ve never tried to shoot a dime,” Nancy says, huffing out a laugh. “But I did get pretty good at hitting those little miniature liquor bottles.”

“That is impressive,” Robin breathes. “And a little terrifying. Assuming we survive all this, I am definitely going to make you show off your sharpshooting skills. God, why is that so—” She shakes her head, and in the strange light of the Upside Down it’s hard to tell, but Nancy could swear Robin is blushing. “Uh, so cool, I mean,” she continues awkwardly. “You know what, please ignore me. I’m just glad to have you on our side, Nancy Wheeler.”

Before Nancy can reply, the ground begins to shake again, and whatever Nancy was going to say falls from the forefront of her mind.

#ronance #robin x nancy #robin/nancy #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance femslash february #femslash february #annieofhearts

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scotianostra · 8 months

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September 28th 1396 saw the "Battle of the Clans" between clans Chattan and Kay on the North Inch, Perth, in front of King Robert III.

Also called the Battle of the North Inch, this is one of my favourite stories, this was more of a "gladiatorial" contest than a battle. They even built some sort of makeshift grandstand for the King to witness it from!

The clans in the highlands of Scotland were an unruly lot. They were constantly feuding with their neighbours and regularly raiding into the low fertile lands of Moray, Perthshire, Angus, Aberdeenshire, and Stirlingshire. The king’s laws meant very little to this warlike, tribal society. In 1396, things were so bad between Clan Chattan and Clan Kay, who were forever raiding each other’s lands, stealing livestock, and burning down houses, that King Robert III sent an army north to deal with the problem. The commander of this army knew it was likely that when he marched into the mountains, his forces were in danger of being ambushed by the men of Chattan or Kay – or perhaps both clans would unite. The outcome could be the massacre of the royal army.

So, he came up with a plan and sent messengers to speak to the two warring clans with a proposal. This was a chance to sort out the problem in one day, sparing countless lives. The commander of the king’s army suggested that the two clans each send thirty men to Perth for a fight to the death on the city’s North Inch. The clan chiefs agreed and when the king heard of this plan, he was so delighted, he decided he and his court would come to Perth to watch the spectacle.

A large brightly coloured pavilion was put up for the royal party and benches were laid out for the people of Perth to sit on. The crowd waited expectedly in the warm summer sun as the skirl of the bagpipes drew closer and closer. Then dozens of warriors took up position on the inch in front of the king’s pavilion.

As the two clans lined up, a referee counted the men on both sides, but a problem was found. Although Clan Kay had thirty men, Clan Chattan had only twenty-nine. They must have miscounted before they left or lost a man on the way to Perth. Royal heralds walked amongst the crowd holding up a gold coin for anyone who would take up arms and fight for Clan Chattan. The city population murmured amongst themselves and fidgeted as the king, looking on like a Roman Caesar in the Colosseum, waited patiently. Just as it seemed no one would take up the offer of gold and Clan Chattan would have to forfeit the contest, a voice boomed from the benches: “I Sir Herald will take that coin and fight for Clan Chattan!”

The voice belonged to the city blacksmith, a giant of a man, strong and powerful. His name was Henry, better known as Hal o’ the Wynd. Hal was given a sword and took up his place amongst the Chattan clansmen.

The king gave the signal to start and arrows were fired between the two sides. Then the men, screaming their clan slogans in Gaelic, charged into the affray. The sunlight danced on sword and axe blades as they cut through the air, slicing into flesh and bone. The green grass became crimson red and sticky from the flow of blood as the screams of the wounded echoed around the inch. The referee called a halt to the battle and the two sides parted. Sweating, panting men, soaked in blood, gulped at the water given to them and used it to wash blood from slippery hands. They likely used their few minutes of rest to glance around, looking for friends or kinsmen, counting how many were still alive compared to the enemy. Wounds were quickly patched up with strips of torn cloth before the signal to fight came again.

The Chattan’s and Kay’s got stuck into each other once more. As the two sides slogged it out, it became clear that Clan Chattan were gaining the upper hand and in the end, all but one of Clan Kay perished. The sole surviving Kay jumped into the River Tay and swam to safety. Hal o’ the Wynd was said to have fought bravely. He was permitted to keep the gold coin and earned his place in Scottish history.

Please note some accounts say the Battle of the Clans was fought between Clan Chattan and Clan Cameron, but most say Chattan and Cameron.

#scotland #scottish #history #battles #perth #clan dispute

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theseasonthatchangedmylife · 2 months

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The Summer that Changed My Life

In the approaching days, I’d have the freedom to steer away whenever faced with such predicament, sparing myself from degradation, shedding the pursuit of validation from those who turn a deaf ear. The car keys become a ticket to escape.

I was 17s summer old when I joined a summer camp called Lakegreen. It was an insistence of my mother. It was strange that my humble mother urged me towards this camp. Of course, my old man had no say in the matter since he was gone as the per usual. Strikingly, the decision was solely hers. I was not against the idea; in fact, I was excited to be away from the city to enjoy observing the skies. The allure of escaping city lights to bask in the beauty of stars captivated me.

As a kid I wanted to major in Astronomy because it was a career where I thought I could go 'higher than dad'. However now it is just a hobby. Camp Lakegreen, a resort in a wooded landscape hugging a serene lake. The water, calm and glass clear by day, tranquil under the noonday sun, peaceful navy hue at night. The air was warm and dry, embraced by a nocturnal breeze.

A myriad of activities awaited us—canoeing, hiking, swimming, scavenger hunts, and indoor pursuits like poetry contests, arts and crafts, and tie-dye.

Amidst the joys, my friendship blossomed with Amy, a shy, fair-haired girl. Assigned partners by the counselor who oversaw our cabin, Peter, who also overlooked the futility of pairing two introverts. h-hello my name is Jane! ”…… hi”, said Amy

Our conversation was almost as scarce as the class O star. Our cabin housed two other girls from my school, with whom I was not fond of. Particularly Nevada—a proud snob, a year my junior. Amy’s aversion to Nevada became the catalyst for our growing closeness, a classic ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’ scenario.

On the second day, I signed for a poetry contest themed on summer. Despite my appreciation for outdoor sports, my heart found solace in stillness. I spent a day in my bunk bed writing a poem:

The Observing Season

When toes sink in the golden dust

And the blue seas wash it away

It is the time for the long rest

It is the time of the day

The new thrives and the old may rust

It is the time at the end of May

Lounger out for observing hours

Amateurs pack up tools to scour

"Shorter nights", they say to cower

Well, the warmer nights have the meteor shower

Time passed so fast, as nightfall arrived unnoticed. Eager to gather inspiration for the poem under the stars, I ventured outside my cabin into the woods.

Amy, just returning to the room, proposed a lakeside stroll. We got closer to the lake and took pictures with our phones there. The further we got away from the lake into the woods the warmer and slightly dry it got, but the strong breeze was comforting. Everything seemed fine until we saw Nevada and her friend smoking in secret. The second they got a glimpse of us, they threw the cigarettes away and fled the scene. While Amy and I were laughing at the sight of the mighty Nevada being scared, the cigarettes' butts started a flame which grew bigger despite our attempts to stop it.

'LET'S JUST RUN AWAY', said Amy. Let’s go before the counselor sees us!'

I shouted: 'Are you insane? I am not leaving until I put the fire out!'

'I am sorry I... I can't stay here any longer!'

Amy left, and I couldn’t quell the fire. Peter, armed with a fire extinguisher, arrived, averting a catastrophe. The next day,

the kids’ stared at me accusingly, and the administrators summoned me.

‘It was not me!’ I protested.

‘Jane, we don’t want to make this uncomfortable. You were the only one there,’ said Peter.

‘No, I was the only one who cared to stay!’

The administrator who cleared his throat loudly said: 'regardless of what you say, we thought it was the best to call your guardian over'

'What? I am telling you it wasn't me and if you ask Amy who was with m-'

'ENOUGH', screamed the administrator.

'The fire could have led to a serious tragedy had we not handled the situation fast', he continued: 'The parents are worried that there is an arsonist in the camp over rumors'

Tearfully, I defended my innocence, but my pleas fell on deaf ears.

‘Grab your things before your parents arrive,’ Peter declared.

"Parents?" it is only my concerned mom I bet.

Hours later, my mother arrived. Attempts to explain my innocence were overshadowed by her apologies to the administrators. I couldn't stand the sight of my mother humiliating herself like that. And for something I didn't do! It would have been better if I did it for real at that point. The car ride was stifled. I couldn’t stay silent, so I let it out:

‘Let me explain…I saw Nevada smoking then-‘

'I know my daughter wouldn't do such a thing... I have heard you the first time', mother said.

Her understanding helped calm the rage within me. Nevada, Amy, and the camp were forgiven in that moment.

Months later, my mother’s health deteriorated. She was diagnosed with cancer, she started taking chemotherapy, but it was not effective. Attempts at treatment proved futile. Eventually she was put in palliative care few weeks before she died.

My mother was aware of her condition long before my father and I, but she chose not to let us know. I couldn't stop thinking that she sent me to the camp so she can go through with the therapy in secret. “If only I ran with Amy that day instead of trying to be the hero mom wouldn’t have died” was the thought I couldn’t shake. I was not the same person anymore. That summer had changed me.

#Spotify #short story #creative writing

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doodle-boy · 9 months

Text

Here it is! My guide to how the weather and how the weather factory works all in a cute little powerpoint!! Finally over a week of obsessive research, script writing and powerpoint panel creation has lead to this masterpiece!

Obviously I am just a fan making up some stuff so if any of you guys disagree with how I head-cannoned the weather please feel free to ignore this. If you wanna take this and use it for your own little ponysona's feel free to do so! Literally the reason why I made this, so that at least we as fans can have one piece of information to point too if ever we need to explain how the weather works in MLP.

Also I did cut some stuff from this, mostly fake seasonal transitional holidays that I made up to help fill in the gap for like spring to summer and summer to fall. since all we ever see in the show is winter wrap up and the running of the leaves. So I'm gonna put that info on the bottom of this cut so you can read that if you want. It is optional!

Anyways I hope you all like it. I'm going to go take a nap I am so tired.

Seasonal Transitional Holidays!

Winter Wrap Up

The Holiday that kicks off the start of a new year! This is one most ponies enjoy because it comes after a long cold season. It is also one where ponies exercise teamwork with one another as ponies split off into teams to help clear away the snow and get things ready for spring. While the teams and methods of clearing the snow are different depending on the city and the pony population. Generally, the teams are split into three categories. Weather Team, Animal Team and the Plant Team.

Weather Team: The Weather Team are the ones who are mainly in control of clearing away the snow and helping the ice melt, as well as clearing the clouds to get the sunlight to warm the earth.

Animal Team: They help with waking up any hibernating animal as well as help guide in birds from the south and building them new nests to use.

Plat Team: Are also responsible for clearing the snow as well as planting new crops to help rejuvenate the landscape.

Celestial Summer Celebration

This Holiday celebration marks the beginning of the summer season! This holiday does not require much preparation on the average pony’s part as it is mostly a celebration to share with friends and family.

Celestia’s Longest Day: Our Princess Celestia brings the sun out earlier in the morning than normal and the ponies in Equestria celebrate the longest day of the year. Ponies spend most of this day outside, swimming, grilling foods, having picnics, and enjoying the sun as it warms up the earth.

Releasing of the Fireflies: This part of the celebration is done as the sun finally sets. That is when ponies release the fireflies, who had been previously sleeping through the cooler spring air, out into the warm summer skies. This is a event celebrated with family and friends as well, though someponies think of it as an unofficial romantic celebration as couples go off to watch the fireflies in private.

Rainbow Leaves Festival

The most colorful of holidays celebrates the beginning of fall as we encourage the leaves to change colors through song and dance as ponies often host colorful costume contests. This is also a time for feasts and other fun activities as ponies come together to share in the bounty that summer gave us. As well as helping our animal friends prepare for winter.

Animal Migrations: This is the time of year most birds start to go back to the south for the winter. Most ponies assist with this by setting up bird feeders in trees, meant to supply birds with all the food they’ll need to make the long trip over. We also leave out feeders for our animal friends who are starting to get ready for hibernation.

Changing of the Leaves: This is the main event of the festival; ponies will gather together wearing colorful dresses and suits in the appropriate fall colors and they will dance and sing songs. From formal fall balls to country square dances there is no wrong way to celebrate this festival. This is a time to come together and dance and sing and make merry. The harmonic energy from the celebrations helps to turn the leaves from green to their colorful oranges, red, browns, yellow and purples. The festival will end with a big feast as ponies enjoy the last summer crops left from the previous season, everypony making colorful dishes with the available ingredients.

Running of the Leaves

The Running of the Leaves is a smaller celebration but one that ponies still enjoy as ponies love to race one another through the forests of Equestria. The combined force of all the ponies racing allows for the leaves to fall from the trees and allows for the transition of winter to begin. This celebration also ends in a large community feast.

Races and other Competitions: Every community and city have their own local races so as the cover as much land as they can. Races usually start earlier in the day when it’s cooler. Not only are there races, but other competitions like to be hosted on this day as well. Like Pie eating contests, tug of war, bobbing for apples, potato sack races, and scarecrow making contests. It’s a time for fun and games and face painting as ponies celebrate the end of fall.

Harvest Feast: Much like the Rainbow Leaves Festival there is also a feast at the end of the day. But this one is usually much larger than the previous celebration. Ponies go all out as they make mash potatoes and pies and other delectable treats as everyone gives thanks to the harvests they produced during the fall. It’s also a time for family and friends to catch up and share their plans for the coming winter season.

#mlp #mlp g4 #my little pony #my litte pony friendship is magic #mlp lore #fan lore #mlp weather #weather #mlp weather factory #weather factory #powerpoint presentation #mlp ocs #my ocs #nimbus #lighting flash #DoodleBoy

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